Papa Jack Chapter 68
Richard groans at the sound of his ringing landline. His dinner with Martha had gone late. When he finally made it home, he slept only fitfully. He didn't want to call his father that far into the night to break the news that Martha Rodgers now knows the truth. He figured he'd do it sometime the next day when they could both be wide awake. This minute is definitely not that time. He's tempted to let the incoming call go to voice mail – but it might be Kate. His bare feet trudge into his loft's great room, and he picks up the receiver.
"Castle, good," Ryan says. "I didn't want to bother Beckett with this in case it's nothing. Espo and I talked to the woman who went running with Eric Donnelly before he was murdered. She said he was working on a plotline about counterfeit knives. Does that make sense to you as a writer?"
"Counterfeit knives," Richard repeats drowsily. "Counterfeit anything makes sense as a plot point – or leading to plot points. Counterfeiters can have falling outs and go after each other. Someone can seek revenge on a counterfeiter who ruined their business. As I recall, golf club manufacturers took that kind of a hit a while back. Their profits had been soaring until counterfeits from China cut their business by more than half. One of Black Pawn's better writers is a golf aficionado who invested in a golf equipment company out of Southern California. He had to write three extra books to compensate for his losses. I guess that counterfeits could cause similar losses to top-of-the-line knife manufacturers. But if you want, I can check it out. Eric and I have shared a few consultants. He might have mentioned something to one of them. Now that he's dead, they wouldn't have to worry about disclosing what would otherwise be confidential conversations. And they'll want to see whoever stuck the knife in Eric caught. I'll get back to you if I learn anything."
"Hurry up, Castle," Ryan urges. "You've been around Beckett long enough to know how fast the clock ticks down on a murder investigation."
"I shall do my best," Richard promises. He checks the time on the wireless receiver's display before returning it to its base. It's 8:05. None of the consultants he has in mind are night owls. He can start calling around. But first, he needs to start a pot of coffee. He really needs a pot of coffee. And he also needs to call his father.
Without checking the caller ID, Jack has a pretty good idea that Richard will be on the other end of the line. Once Jack's son gets something into his head, there's very little that will turn him from his path. When Richard was a toddler, Jack had chalked the behavior up to the terrible twos, but other than expressing his intentions more eloquently, the grown-up Richard can be as laser-focused as the mini version. Jack has little doubt that the so-long-in-coming conversation between son and biological mother has finally taken place. "So, you did it?"
"I did it," Richard confirms. "But Martha wants to keep our little secret under wraps for now. She figured out a distraction for the press. Since I found out you were a spy…."
"Intelligence asset."
"Intelligence, asset," Richard dutifully repeats. "Anyway, ever since I found out, I've believed I got the streak of deviousness I use in my stories from you. Turns out it might have come from both sides. In any case, Ms. Dish and her minions will be off the scent for a while. And, Dad, Martha wanted to know if you asked about her."
"What did you tell her?" Jack queries.
"Not much. But I did mention you might be at the fundraiser."
"The fundraiser," Jack echoes. "Right. I will definitely be around."
Showered, dressed, and braced by his second mug of coffee, Richard makes a call to the fourth and final consultant who might have been working with Eric Donnelly.
"I just saw an article about Eric's murder in The Ledger this morning," Kathy Reddinger says. "Awful thing. So you wanted to ask me about a clue from something he was working on?"
"Specifically, knife counterfeiting," Richard confirms. "With your industrial background, I figured he might have talked to you about it."
"He did, Richard, and not just the general topic. He wanted to know about the nitty-gritty of it: how the counterfeit knives would be made more cheaply. Eric asked what steel would be used and about stamping methods. He also wanted to know where production would take place and if it would be dangerous to use a counterfeit version, thinking it was the real thing."
"And what did you tell him?" Richard presses.
"A lot. I sent him a whole write-up on the knives. I can email you a copy. He already paid for it. So if you're working with the police to find his killer, it's the least I can do. Short version: the knives would probably come from Yangjiang, Guangdong, which is the knife manufacturing hub of China, but be labeled as made in Japan or Germany. The substandard steel and poor construction could cause the blades to snap. Someone could definitely get hurt that way."
"Thanks, Kathy. I appreciate your help."
"Just figure out who killed Eric, Castle. And call me next time you have an industrial question."
"I will call you," Richard assures the consultant. "And as to figuring out who killed Eric, I will do my best."
Richard watches impatiently as his printer spits out pages of Kathy's report. He considers taking it to the 12th to give to Ryan and Esposito, but he has a feeling that Kate will want to know about the new angle for the case. He decides there's no harm in making a stop on the way to the precinct.
As she answers her door, Kate's face brightens. "Hey, Castle! I didn't think I'd see you until this afternoon."
"And you still can," Richard quickly interjects. "But Ryan asked me to do a little research for him on the Donnelly case this morning, and I thought you might want to weigh in on it." Richard hands her the report.
"Knife counterfeiting? What does that have to do with Donnelly's murder?"
"Maybe nothing. Still, Kate, we'd been thinking crime of passion. But what if the passion was for the almighty dollar? There are big bucks to be made in passing off counterfeit knives as the real thing. And companies who make the real thing are losing them. Where there's money…."
"There's murder," Kate fills in. "OK, Castle. The boys can wait a few minutes. By going over this together, we might even be able to speed up their work."
Richard grins. "Then, by all means, let's get started."
In the bullpen, Esposito scowls. "Castle, you took what you found to Beckett before you brought it here? She isn't officially supposed to be working on anything."
"Uh-huh, but you and Ryan brought Beckett and me into the case," Richard reminds the detective. "And I wasn't about to ace her out. An angry Beckett, even a convalescing one, is not someone I want to mess with. Do you?"
"I don't," Ryan declares, joining them. "So, Castle, what have you got?"
"Counterfeit knives."
As Esposito snorts, Ryan rolls his eyes.
Ignoring their responses, Richard goes to the murder board and starts to write.